


Arabian Nights

by owlways_and_forever



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Aladdin!AU, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Post-Dystopian, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlways_and_forever/pseuds/owlways_and_forever
Summary: An average day trying to scrape by in the marketplace takes a distinctly unusual turn.
Relationships: Parvati Patil/Dean Thomas
Kudos: 2





	Arabian Nights

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is technically set in Marrakech, but it’s a future, somewhat post-dystopian Marrakech. There’s a lot that’s drawn from my time there, but also a lot that’s drawn from the movie or just otherwise made up.

For probably the thousandth time, Dean cursed his parents as his stomach growled and clenched painfully. Three days since he’d last managed to get some food and that was only a loaf of bread. He’d ended up giving most of it to a couple of little kids, keeping only what he absolutely needed for himself and Seamus to get by. He’d felt good about it at the time, but now he had a lot of regret. He kicked an empty tin can, grumpy about his lot in life, and Seamus jumped at the loud clattering noise. The little monkey narrowed his eyes at Dean in a clear display of his displeasure before settling his head back down on his tiny paws and closing his eyes.

“Sorry Sea,” Dean whispered, collapsing back against the clay walls. 

He really needed to get up. If he didn’t find some more food soon, he wouldn’t have enough energy to get up, and then he would be well and truly screwed. Starvation was most definitely not how he wanted to go either. Swearing internally, Dean pushed himself to his feet, stretching his limbs tentatively. Why did his parents have to be heroes? Couldn’t they have stayed home, not gone to fight in some stupid war, and just taken care of him? He hated being an orphan. It was a hard life, a struggle.

Shaking off such negative thoughts, Dean rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen himself up. Scavenging for food was never an easy task, and it was best to be prepared, both physically and mentally. 

“Come on, Sea, let’s go,” he said, squatting down so that the monkey could climb up his arm and curl around his neck.

Dean padded down the stairs of his dilapidated home, taking a deep breath before stepping out into the glaring sunlight. The heat was scorching, so much more intense in the sun that it had been in the glorious shade inside his home. His mouth felt dry in a matter of seconds, dehydration a concern that prickled at the back of his mind. But food was more important. With Seamus perched on his shoulder, Dean began to make his way through the winding streets towards the center of the marketplace, keeping his eyes peeled for the perfect opportunity.

o ~ o ~ o

Parvati sat on the edge of the pond, her feet dangling just below the surface of the water. Every now and then a fish would swim up to her, brushing its fins lightly along the soles of her feet before darting away. Too close and they risked being impaled on Padma’s sharp claws.

Parvati sighed heavily. It was one of those days when she felt a particular itch, a need to get out and explore, but unable to leave the palace grounds, she felt like a lioness trapped in a cage far too small. Another suitor had arrived the night before, this time the middle aged and very grumpy Prince Alastor. Parvati had quickly dispelled any notions of a match between them, and the prince had agreed to leave again in a day’s time - once his mules were well-rested. She had rolled her eyes then, convinced that it was a ploy and that the prince was sure he could change her mind, but happily he had stayed far away from her so far. But nevertheless, just knowing that her father was determined to marry her off made her feel boxed in and irritable. Why was he so desperate to find her a husband?  Not for the first time, Parvati wondered if there was something her father wasn’t telling her.

With another heavy sigh, she reached out and ruffled the top of Padma’s head. She needed to get away from all of this, from the palace and her father’s absurd expectations, and an idea was beginning to form in her mind.

o ~ o ~ o

Dean meandered through the marketplace, watching for any sign of a vendor that might turn his back on his wares for even a moment. He needed just a little bit of good luck today. 

Seamus leapt from his shoulder onto the awning of a little fruit stall, and Dean smiled to himself as he watched the monkey swing down and swipe an apple while the vendor’s back was turned. Dean sidled up to a baker’s stall - the man was heatedly haggling with a customer, and Dean took the opportunity to bend over the table of bread, pretending to examine it closely. With his hands largely hidden from view, he slipped four rolls into the pockets of his loose pants and then turned away, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head as if he hadn’t found anything satisfactory. He kept moving down the street, swiping a banana and two oranges on the way. He could see Seamus every now and then, picking the pockets of unsuspecting customers or stealing food behind the backs of the vendors. Dean was careful only to take what he needed, but Seamus had less scruples. He had long ago stopped trying to convert the monkey to a more moral way of life, and now could only laugh at his antics.

For the most part, Dean didn’t pay much attention to the vendors or even the stalls, only noticing when someone’s back was turned to his advantage. But one stall caught his eye - a small booth with an older man peddling various art tools. Dean couldn’t help but stop and look at the array of paints and brushes and pallets. They tugged at him, beckoning and calling to be put to use. Such things were expensive and there was no way he would ever be able to buy them outright. But still… he  _ wanted _ them.

He picked up one of the paint pots - a deep indigo - and held it up in front of his eyes. At the same time, his left hand searched out another small pot, this time a beautiful, bright aquamarine.

“That indigo is a lovely color,” the old man wheezed, grinning toothlessly at Dean. “Very difficult to make, and quite rare.”

“And expensive, I’m sure,” Dean replied, as his slipped the pot of aquamarine into his pocket.

“But well worth it,” the old man replied.

“Hey! He just took that pot! Thief!” a voice rang out across the market, finger pointing accusingly at Dean.

He didn’t think, just hastily dropped the indigo paint back onto the table and took off at a full sprint. With such a loud call, it wouldn’t be long before the guards were hunting him down. Dean dodged through the crowds of people, weaving as he made his way forward, desperate to escape the clutches of the city guards.

He looked over his shoulder, searching for Seamus among the awnings. Dean knew that his simian companion was more than capable of taking care of himself, but he couldn’t help but worry. Dean never saw the woman walking across the marketplace.

He crashed into her, knocking her to the ground and collapsing on top of her in a cloud of crimson dust. 

“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, scrambling up and immediately looking behind himself for the guards, who were rapidly approaching. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see -”

Dean stopped mid sentence, his gaze flicking toward the girl beneath him for the first time. She was  _ beautiful. _ Her skin shimmered like bronze and her eyes were as dark and profound as the night sky. She smiled shyly at him as he helped her to her feet, and the gesture made Dean feel like his brain had evaporated. His mind was a blank, replaced by pure bliss instead.

And then her gasp as she looked over his shoulder brought him back to reality. The guards were closing in, getting far too close for comfort. In a move that completely shocked him, the girl grabbed his hand, sprinting in the opposite direction and pulling him along. For a few yards, he simply followed her lead, too stunned to do anything else. But then it became clear that she was simply going to run as fast as she could in a straight line, and years of living as a street rat had taught him that that was not a winning strategy.

Dean tugged her hand and turned them down a narrow street - derb dhahabi - and away from the guards. He could feel some resistance from her, but it seemed more like a hesitation and Dean chose to ignore it.

“Where are we going?” she asked after he zigzagged down two other streets in quick succession. Her voice was enchanting and if he hadn’t been entirely focused on escaping the guards with his life intact, he would have swooned from the sound of it, but the threat of imminent peril kept him on track.

“Away from them,” he answered, jerking his head backward toward where he assumed the guards must be.

She didn’t reply and he kept moving forward occasionally taking another turn down a different road. When he found what he was looking for, he skidded to a stop, the girl nearly crashing into his back. A clay staircase rose along the side of the buildings there, climbing up to the roof. A series of squeaks drew Dean’s attention to the top and he let out a deep sigh of relief when he saw Seamus bouncing excitedly at the top.

“This way,” he said, taking a few steps up the staircase and waiting for her to follow.

The girl hesitated, her foot hovering above the first step but not yet committing to taking it.

“Do you trust me?” Dean asked, reaching out to offer his hand again.

She hesitated for a moment, but then slipped her palm into his, and Dean delighted in the warmth that seemed to spread from the contact.

“Yes.”

The one word was the only encouragement he needed to keep moving forward up the staircase, climbing higher into the sky. She followed behind, still clinging to his hand, and Dean noticed Seamus’ eyes narrow suspiciously. As they reached the roof, he flung out his free hand, allowing Seamus to scramble up onto his shoulder once more.

“Who’s your friend?” the girl asked, glancing at the little monkey with curiosity.

“This is Seamus,” Dean introduced with a wide grin. “He’s pretty much my best friend.”

“What an odd name,” she giggled, reaching out to pet Seamus, who jumped out of the way and chattered irritatedly.

“I got it from an old book of poems that my parents left behind,” Dean explained, flashing her an apologetic look for his monkey’s behavior. Seamus had a tendency to be a little territorial, and his temper was more than a little incendiary.

A few shouts came from below, and Dean looked up in alarm, grabbing her hand again and leading her across the roof. He didn’t like to surprise her with what was coming next, but it was best if she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Jump!” he instructed, just as they reached the end of that building’s roof.

The girl looked at him with wide, panicked eyes, but she did it anyway, and Dean couldn’t help but admire her courage in that moment. They repeated the process - running across the roofs and then leaping across gaps in between - a few more times before Dean slowed their pace.

“At the end of this building there’s a window, probably about three feet down,” he informed her. “We’re going to go through it. I’ll go first, then I can help you.”

“What makes you think I need help?” she replied, furrowing her eyebrows at him disapprovingly. How was it that even that was beautiful?

“You ever jump off a roof and through a window before?” he asked, and when she didn’t answer he just smirked. “Okay, then better safe than sorry.”

“Fine,” she agreed as they got to the edge of the roof. 

Dean leapt off the edge, twisting in mid air and grabbing the edge of the roof like a lithe gymnast. He swung his feet through the window and dropped, landing smoothly inside the building. The girl huffed a little at the display, clearly not going to try to replicate it. She sat down on the edge, trying to line herself up with the window, and then she turned around, holding herself up with her arms and bracing herself with her stomach against the edge of the roof. Her muscles protested at the stance, not used to being used in such a physical manner. She kicked her feet, trying to find the edge of the window. When she did, she tried to lower herself down slowly, but it was too difficult, and she collapsed down to her elbows, barely hanging onto the roof anymore. Fear gripped her, but then a pair of strong arms wrapped around her knees. She let go, allowing herself to drop into Dean’s grasp below.

He pulled her into the building, holding her a little bit closer than was strictly necessary. She lingered in his arms for a moment, and then broke free, moving around the shaded room with curiosity.

“Do you live here?” she asked, gazing at the simply decorated walls with fascination.

“Me? No,” Dean replied, laughing a little. “This kind of house is for a real family. But I’ve got myself a nice place too, in its own way. It’s not too far from here, actually.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? The guards to catch up?”

Dean grinned at her question, which was half a command. This girl had some fire, but he didn’t think he’d mind doing just about anything she asked, even if it was walking across the desert with no water.

“Come on then.” he said, nearly galloping down the building’s stairs.

As they exited onto the street, he was careful to keep to the shadows and flit beneath the awnings. It was really just a precaution though, he was fairly certain that they’d managed to lose their hunters. It took a little more than ten minutes for them to walk up the hill toward his sanctuary. When they arrived in front of the run down building, he suddenly felt a little insecure, wondering if she would judge him harshly for his living space.

“It looks like an old monastery,” she remarked, using a long abandoned word to describe the building in front of them. “There were very few in the city to begin with, I’m surprised there’s still one standing.”

Dean ducked into the doorway and climbed the stairs, the soft echo of her footsteps telling him that the girl was following him.  It was a long climb to the top, revealing every flaw in the ancient building along the way. At the top was a little loft, furnished with some old, faded rugs and a lumpy straw bed. He had used stolen paints to create beautiful and intricate patterns across the walls in an array of bright colours. A ragged piece of fabric hung across the one window, large and round. It wasn’t much, but it was home, and he kind of loved it.

“This is where you live?” she asked, looking around, and Dean felt more than a little self conscious.

“Yeah, I know it’s a little bit dumpy but…” 

Heat rose beneath his dark skin. 

“No!” she corrected hastily, reaching out and laying a hand on his arm, igniting a spark of electricity. “No, I think it’s wonderful. Whatever else it is, it’s  _ yours _ . You have freedom here.”

He flashed her a quizzical look, puzzled by the note of envy in her voice, but pleased nonetheless.

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” he said, moving over to the window and pulling back the makeshift curtain. 

The sun was beginning to set, bright yellow and gold rays spreading from the sun to stain the horizon with warm hues. It was one of the few things he loved about Marrakech - the sunsets were just about the prettiest thing he could imagine. Until today, that was. Because while the girl gasped and her eyes grew wide as she took in the setting sun over a city sprawled out below them, Dean couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“What are you looking at?” she grinned over her shoulder, a glowing halo surrounding her in the window.

“I’m looking at you,” he answered honestly, but his tone made it clear that what he was seeing was something truly incredible.

She blushed and turned away from him so he wouldn’t see the shy smile spreading, looking back out the window. Dean found one of his rare candles and lit it, ready for darkness to settle in when the sun went down.

“You don’t seem like you’re from the city,” Dean remarked after a long silence.

“I live…  _ lived  _ in the palace my whole life,” she answered, her eyes fixed on its silhouette in the distance. “But I couldn’t stay there anymore. It was suffocating. I had to get away.”

“You must have been terrified, back there in the marketplace,” he said, his voice sympathetic.

“I’m not scared, not at all,” she replied defiantly, turning to look at him with her chin lifted high, but Dean could see her confidence wavering in her eyes.

“Well, I think it’s very brave of you.”

He moved a little closer to her, drawn in like a magnet. She reciprocated, inching closer to him. Dean felt his heartbeat pounding like a stallion racing through the desert and his fingertips itched to brush her shawl back from her face and ghost over her skin. She took another step closer, her body only a few inches from his and her lips enticingly close. Dean bent his head, desperate to close the distance between them and find out if her lips were as soft as they looked.

They were both too entranced and wrapped up in the moment to hear the footsteps on the stairs until it was too late. Guards burst onto the little loft with a shout that tore the two of them apart, jumping like they had just been electrocuted.

“Well, well,” the biggest of the guards mused, stepping forward menacingly. “Looks like the little street rat doesn’t stop at stealing food.”

Dean didn’t understand what he meant, and for the moment he thought the guard was just thick, but a quick glance at the girl next to him told him that there was something he was missing.

“Seems we’ve caught ourselves a kidnapper, isn’t that right, Princess?”

_ Princess?  _ Dean reeled, looking at her with surprise and confusion. 

“He’s not a kidnapper,” she said, her voice immediately taking on a commanding tone that was entirely foreign to him. “I demand that you let him go.”

“Sorry, your highness, but we have orders from Lord Voldemort himself,” the guard shrugged, clearly not sorry in the least.

“He is merely an advisor,  _ I  _ am the princess and the heir to the empire!” Parvati protested, angered by their insolence.

“But Lord Voldemort speaks on behalf of the Sultan himself,” the guard grinned, enjoying the power play. 

The guards moved forward in unison, seizing Dean’s arms with ironclad grips, too tight to escape despite his struggle.

“Release him!” Parvati ordered to no avail as they dragged Dean across the loft. Tears stung in her eyes - they both knew that kidnapping the princess was a treasonable offense and Lord Voldemort was not likely to care what the truth was as long as he had someone to blame her escape on. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin your life.”

Dean’s heart broke at the sadness on her face, and he longed to kiss it away.

“You didn’t ruin it at all,” he assured her, the last words he was able to say before he was dragged down the staircase and out of sight.


End file.
